


There Were Ten

by Elf_Of_Mischief



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Adventure, Elves, F/M, Humour, Romance, TenthWalker, ThirdAge, middleearth, slowburn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2019-06-21 02:26:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15547557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elf_Of_Mischief/pseuds/Elf_Of_Mischief
Summary: Kin slain, future uncertain, Aerlaer has no desire to flee to the undying lands; instead choosing to fight beside those who'd rather rid the world of the evil seeking to cast all in shadow. In the midst of impending war, the strongest friendships kindle and a flicker of something more will ensure all sorts of predicaments and mischief as long buried memories resurface.10th WalkerOriginally Posted to Fanfiction.com under same author (Elf of Mischief)





	1. Saved

_**~ Saved ~** _

* * *

 

 

The moss and lichen covered landmark of a perfectly round rock beside a sleepy oak, caused Legolas to let out a sigh of relief. His destination was close, and he would once again be surrounded by his own kind, safely within the guarded borders of the last homely house in Middle Earth, Imladris. Still, he enjoyed the light filled forest path he currently rode his relaxed, dapple grey mare along. Legolas had travelled beneath these trees many times over the years since walking away from his own homeland; turning his back on his realm, his kingdom, his King. A King, who Legolas doubted had bothered to send a representative or at least a messenger to Imladris, for a summoned council.

He himself was not entirely sure just what this council would entail, but a missive from the Lord of Imladris had reached him months earlier, summoning him to represent the Woodland Realm. He'd ignored it. He was not interested in playing Prince to a Kingdom which he was no longer loyal. Three weeks later, Aragorn had returned to the Dunedin and personally hand delivered another summons identical to the first. This second summons was not without the Ranger talking him into attending the council he was now riding towards.

He let out another sigh, hoping this council would not result in any actual involvement with the Woodland Realm. That was a life in his past, and Lord Elrond would surely know better than to drag him into any such matters. Two wood pigeons suddenly flew in fright towards he and his horse, both arcing around and into the trees he'd already passed, alerting him.

"Dar…" He spoke lowly to his mare, and she halted swiftly from her easy trot. He took his bow up quietly and felt back for an arrow. There were no noises, and he saw no danger through the trees, but these were dark times. He could not be too careful. "Padadínen, Niphredil." The mare responded by treading forward on near silent hoofs. Something felt off, the birds were no longer singing in the trees. 

An uneasy feeling began to build within him when his mare suddenly threw her head up, body tensed as she strained, ears pricked listening. An almost inaudible sound of laboured cantering hoof beats, and louder, faster running feet shattered the tranquillity of the forest. There was only one race which made such destructive noise. Legolas listened intently, his heart dropping as he realised the enemy undoubtedly pursued a single rider. Using his legs and voice, he spun his mare and set her off at a swift gallop towards where he had heard the laboured hoofbeats and the louder sound of pursuing Orc.

Moments seemed to stretch out before finally, he caught sight of movement and heard the snarling sounds of Orcs in the distance, disappearing down a rise. He sent his mare flying after them, simultaneously knocking his arrow. Reaching the rise, he signalled his mare to stop to gaze down into a clearing of limestone outcrops. In-between the tall rocks stood an elleth, sword drawn, facing off five impossibly large advancing Orcs.

 

…

 

Exhausted, she turned to face the remaining Orcs she'd been fleeing continuously for the last eight days. Slowly she had picked off the pursing pack, shooting until her quiver was sparse and just five Orcs remained from the twenty that had given chase that terrible night.

"Give up, your strength has waned." Laughed the lead Orc as he advanced, blade raised. Her arms shook at the impact as his crude but hefty weapon crashed down upon her Elven blade. It took everything she had to hold him back and parry his sword away. Biting her lip, to keep from crying out which would surely use more energy she did not possess; she stepped forward and swung her blade up, disarming the Orc his weapon before arcing back, slitting his bared throat. He fell to the side and she stumbled back, her body now shaking from the sheer effort of protecting herself.

The four remaining Orcs ignored their fallen leader, advancing toward her. Their guttural snarls reminded her of wolves going in for the final kill. Shaking, she lifted her sword but one of the Orcs easily now batted it out of her hand, the blade falling to her feet. She kept stumbling away from them through the outcrops of limestone and they followed lazily, surely relishing in the thought they could draw out her death slowly. The thought should have made her ill, yet she was too exhausted. Limestone loomed above her and she wheeled around, realising too late she had backed herself into a corner she could not escape from. She turned to face the Orcs, a stone like weight of dread settling in her stomach as she finally accepted they had caught her.

They had caught her, and she would suffer the same fate now as her kin had. Perhaps it would be best, she could follow the others across the sea, be again with all those she had lost. She had not even grieved them, there had been no time; only running, surviving, following her brother's final order, his final plea. _No! I must get to Imladris!_ She gazed wildly about for an escape, her heart thundering painfully under her ribs. The biggest of the four remaining Orcs stalked forward and she ripped a knife from her back, but the Orc was quicker.

 Grabbing her around the neck, he lifted her up, slamming her back against the limestone wall. She gasped as the air was knocked from her lungs, the impact jolting her spine and causing her head to throb where it connected with a sickening hard thud against the un-forgiving stone. She couldn't get enough air; the Orc was crushing her windpipe. The long knife fell from her hand and now she kicked out with her legs, futilely trying to pull the vice grip from her throat.

Her vision became a hazy blur and still, blood rushed pounding in her head and her strength finally left her. She felt herself falling and was vaguely aware of the pressure leaving her throat. It was too late though, there was nothing left to sustain her soul. As she finally hit the ground, there was nothing.

 

…

 

He was kicking the last Orc aside moments after his arrow had sunk through its thick skin and burrowed through its lung and into its black heart. Hastily he knelt by the elleth's side to check she still breathed, pushing her dirt and blood-stained hair from her all too pale face. He could just detect her chest rising and falling and carefully placed an ear over her heart, dismayed to hear it was a laboured beat.

Frowning, he assessed at her. To be in the state she was, she must have run a truly long way. Further than Imladris, but where had she come from? Was she one of Lord Elrond's guards? Imladris did not have female guards... unless the lore’s of the valley had changed? Her once white dress was torn at the hem and dirt and dried blood had collected on it. Never had he seen another Elf in such poor condition. He was no healer, but Legolas knew if he did not get her to the healers of Imladris quickly, her heart would surely fail.

"Niphredil, tolo!" He called out to his mare and she cantered over as he deftly stood and retrieved the elleth's sword and knife before returning to where Niphredil now stood, nosing the deathly still elleth with an anxiety he had not seen in his mare before. Legolas knelt and with deft movements, unbuckled and removed her quiver, bow and sword belt; sheathing her two used blades. He secured her weapons to his mare’s saddle before turning back to the elleth. Curiously and without command, Niphredil knelt upon her knees, empty saddle presented the elleth and himself. Thanking his mare, Legolas gathered up the unconscious elleth in his arms and settled in the saddle.

A near tangible scent of violets caught Legolas’s attention as he settled the elleth in his arms, stirring a whisper of a memory he could not quite grasp. Feeling a sudden protectiveness, he held her tighter against his chest, nudging his mare into a swift gallop towards Imladris.

* * *

 

 

 


	2. Last of Kin

_**~ Last of Kin ~** _

 

* * *

 

Delicate music floating in on a warm breeze awoke her from a heavy darkness, and suddenly needing to see the comfort of light, she forced her eyes open, blinking.

"Aerlaer! I thought you'd never awaken!" She pushed herself up to sit, turning toward the familiar voice to see a dark haired elleth clad in a blue gown, hurry to the side of the Imladris bed she had found herself in.

"Arwen, I am very glad to awaken in these fair halls, but please explain to me cousin, however did I get here? My last memory is of an Orc's hands wrapped around my neck... Oh, are we in the Halls of Mandos?" She gazed around uncertainly. “No, these are my guest rooms which means…” Aerlaer trailed off.

Arwen chuckled at her confusion. "No, no we are still very much in the halls of Imladris. You were saved by another Elf. He told us everything he saw. You fought with every ounce of strength you had left within you, he said. Thank the Valar he found you before..." She stopped herself and took a breath as Aerlaer tried to collect her thoughts, her memories. What she was remembering was a nightmare surely? It couldn’t be real, just a dream. "Your heart was so weak when you arrived." Arwen continued quietly.

"We feared we had lost you." Aerlaer looked towards the door as Lord Elrond entered the chamber, Arwen stood up, nodding her head in greeting to her father. He walked over, kneeling where Arwen had just knelt, gazing worriedly into her eyes and she knew they were swiftly conveying the pain, the horror which was beginning to suffocate her heart and crush her soul. It hadn’t been a dream, but a nightmare, a very real nightmare. "Tithinriel, what evil has befallen? Where is your brother? Where is Aerthor?"

Unbidden, tears rolled down Aerlaer's cheeks as she fought to comprehend all which had befallen before the Orcs had pursued her. The last image in her mind causing her the most pain, rendering her frozen as she fully realised she was completely and utterly alone.

"Aerthor is dead." She heard herself speak what she did not want to believe. "They're all dead." She heard Arwen gasp in horror, and Aerlaer she did not realise she was shaking uncontrollably until familiar arms embraced her.

 

…

 

Elrond was speechless. Surely there was some mistake in Aerlaer's words. If it were not for the condition she had arrived in the afternoon before, Elrond would have suspected a prank. No, this was certainly no prank between the young Edhelroch and her brother. No, this was pure consuming pain, her heartache absolute. There had been no lie, no jest in her words; her kin were gone. But how? The Edhelroch were some of the fiercest warriors of the third age, how could this be possible?

Against his chest, Aerlaer shook, silent tears falling in earnest. Elrond let her grieve freely, but internally he was deciding just what had to be done. He would send a group of scouts to the Gladden Fields to discover just what had befallen his young niece's kin. "Shh, they are safe now across the sea, and they are together still." He consoled the young elleth, wondering if she would fade to join them. It was something he deeply suspected would occur. Yet, she had made it this far. Legolas had found her but five miles from the valley’s borders.

There was a light tap at the door and he looked up to see his own sons, deep worry in their grey eyes. Arwen stood shakily and walked to them, explaining through her own sorrow the little Aerlaer had spoken of. Immediately, as he knew they would, his sons were by his side. Elrohir shaking his head, trying to hold himself together, and Elladan carefully taking his place to embrace his cousin tightly. Each one of them desperately needed to know just what had befallen the herd, but until the young elleth was ready, they would wait.

 

 …

 

Hours must have surely passed before Aerlaer felt she could cry no more and sniffing, slowly shifted and looked up. Elladan had wrapped his arms securely around her and she desperately didn't want him to leave. He was her protector always, no matter if she was no longer an Elfling. He stayed where he was to her relief, seeming to lend her strength. She knew it was time, she had to relive and retell what evil fate had befallen her kin, her family.

"The Orcs had been slowly picking the herd off for some years now." She was surprised to find her voice was stronger than she felt. "Any of us who strayed too far from the safety of the group risked our lives. We've always kept our fighting skills well-honed, and Aerthor's guard kept our boundaries safe.

It was a planned attack, the night of The Golden Leaf Celebration. Every member of the herd was merry and having a wonderful time, singing and dancing when suddenly there were screams and then there were Orcs everywhere. Half of us weren't armed. Half of the guard thankfully were and began fighting back straight away but the Orcs were ruthless and they were different. They were not the ones we usually dealt with but taller, fiercer, stronger and organised. Their armour was better, and they were marked in white battle paint, so they appeared all the fiercer.

Our herd only consisted of eighty-two and there were hundreds of these large Orcs. I managed to retrieve my weapons from my quarters, but I'd been followed and had to fight my way back out. I don't know how many I slayed, they just kept on coming from the darkness of our borders. We fought into the night. I saw Adar cut two down as he tried to protect my mother and then she too was taken." Aerlaer paused, taking in a shaky breath as she relived it all again, saw the images she had seen in her mind since she had awoken. "There were so many lifeless bodies, so much blood..." She shook her head, trying to distance the reality from her words.

"The fighting slowed a little, and as the moon came out from the dark clouds I could see from where id been momentarily knocked down. There was none of my kin standing. Save Aerthor, he was outnumbered by Orcs. I leapt up to his aid, but I could not get to him in time and they pierced a blade into his chest. I called out to him and he used his last breaths to tell me to run, to get away and flee to Imladris. At first, I did not listen, I thought I could save him but there was no one left to save. The herd had been diminished, only I was left standing. I did as Aerthor commanded me, I fled." She took in a shuddering breath and then, another, fighting to keep her composure.

None of her Imladris family spoke and she dared not gaze up into any of their eyes but instead focused on the intricate patterns upon Elladan's deep red cloak which half draped over her too.

"I ran from the Orcs for eight continuous days, dodging them and trying to lose them through the Wilderlands. There were twenty-five pursuing me, but I picked off twenty until I had no more arrows left. I knew if I could reach Imladris, I would be safe from harm. Aerthor had planned to represent our herd at the council and I knew I also had to fulfil his place and his duty. Finally, I was too tired and too weak to run a step more and I knew I had to turn and face my pursuers.

I struck one Orc down, but the effort was too much, and the four remaining Orcs knew they had me. I tried to get away, a small hope maybe I could survive them, then one picked me up by the throat and stopped the air from getting to my lungs. I remember nothing after that..." Aerlaer looked quizzically at Elrond now, her curiosity rising above the grief she was drowning in. She forced herself not to notice the pain in his wise, grey eyes. "Who was the Elf who found and saved me? Were they a Rivendell Elf?"

"No." Elrond smiled. "The Elf who found you was Legolas, son of King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm, you may know of him?"

"The Elves of Mirkwood have not been seen in our end of the woods in many centuries." She replied. "I have heard his name, but do not know him."

"You were very lucky he was also traveling to Rivendell for the Council and heard you and your pursuers." She nodded slowly. _Why would an Elf from Mirkwood be taking a path to Imladris from the South East?_

"Yes, I guess it is a wonder I am still alive. You must point him out after the council, so I may thank him." Aerlaer replied, feeling very grateful to this mysterious Mirkwood Elf.

“You will still attend?” A shadow seemed to pass over Elrond’s face, his words hedging.

“I do, I owe it to Aerthor. I must take his place, do what he would have done.” Elrond nodded, his gaze shifting away.

"You've been unconscious since yesterday afternoon and it is early morning now, another day of rest will return the last of your strength. The council begins tomorrow, after the break of day meal if you do wish to attend in your brother's place." Elrond explained calmly. She nodded. "Now, all of you out, let your cousin have a moment alone." He added, and she felt lost again as Elladan moved away and went to stand by his brother. Arwen indicated to the adjoining wash room.

"There is a hot bath prepared. I will go and find some food for you."

"A bath would be nice, I feel rather un Elf-like in my current state." She murmured, trying to remain positive although her heart felt unbearably heavy.

"Do not let Aragorn hear you say that." Elrohir quipped with a wink, catching on quickly to what she was trying to do and helping to lighten her thoughts.

"Aragorn is here? I have not seen him in a very long while. How is he?"

"Ask Arwen, Elladan flashed her a small smile before they followed their father from the chamber. She gazed imploringly at her older cousin.

"We do not have to speak of Aragorn now." She murmured carefully.

"No, please Arwen, I want to know. I need something else to think of." She pleaded and did not miss the understanding in her cousin’s eyes.

"He is well. I have given him my heart." She admitted quietly. Despite everything, Aerlaer smiled.

"I am not surprised, and I am happy for you. He is a good man, not very clean and a little smelly at times, but he is good." She teased, and Arwen now smiled brilliantly at her. This wonderful news was like a balm to her own soul. She had been the one to arrive in Lorien, with a grown Aragorn, along with Elladan, where Arwen had fallen for him.

It had been hilarious, she had not recognised the Ranger for the boy he had been. Aerlaer smiled at the memory, it too easing her soul. There was however one thing standing in the way… "What has your father said? Does he accept this?" She asked carefully, realising her cousin had pledged herself to a mortal life.

"Father does not know yet. At least I do not think he does. He knows my feelings for Aragorn and how Aragorn returns those feelings, but I do not think he will approve." She let out a disheartened sigh.

"He would not want to lose you. You’re his only daughter, he will always be protective." Aerlaer consoled.

"He cares for you as if you were a daughter too." Arwen let a small grin slip. "Don't you go falling for a mortal too little cousin or my poor father will have a fit!"

"Silaear, remember the fiasco with Taurorn?" She couldn't help but snicker and laughter burst from the other elleth.

"Exactly! You had three Realms in an utter uproar!" Aerlaer laughed at the memory. Laughing felt good, so, so very good after everything. "Now, take a bath, or we'll have to pass you off as a dirty Ranger!" Arwen chuckled lightly and stepped out of the chamber, closed the pale wooden door behind her.

Aerlaer crossed her legs beneath her, fighting off the sadness, the pain which once again threatened to overwhelm her now she was left alone. _This is ridiculous. I am alive, I am lucky. Really, it is a good thing, the herd are together, they are with Mandos. Surely he will let them out of his halls sooner because they are together? Because they should be free, not confined?_ It was reassuring to know their fëa were together, even though their bodies lay still in the fields. I really am the only one left…

An overwhelming sense of being alone tried to consume her and Aerlaer gasped, her own fëa floundering in shadows. _Will I fade? Am I fading?_ She drew her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around them. _Those Orcs wanted to wipe out my kin but, I am still here. They failed._ A new strength flooded her and slowly she shifted and stood. _I will not fade; the enemy will not win._

 

* * *

 


	3. The Gardens of Rivendell

_**~ The Gardens of Rivendell ~** _

* * *

 

 

Aerlaer sat in front of the dresser gazing at her reflection in the pale dawn light, absentmindedly running her fingers through her hair. She picked out the different colours in its lengths; golds, chocolates, honeys, creams, chestnuts, dark browns and auburns. Most Elves had hair a single colour, but not her. Aerthor’s hair had been the same, like their father's and his father before him. A mark of their bloodline, different colours of falling autumn leaves. Now she was the only one who carried that bloodline.

The thought rested heavily on her mind. Since she had awoken in Imladris the morning before, Aerlaer had remained in the family guest halls, her cousins dropping in when they could to keep her company.

Elladan had remained by her side during the night, and they had shared stories and past pranks between his twin and her own. She had thought speaking of her lost family would have bitterly hurt, but it helped. Her cousins too had lost their mother, and Aragorn had lost his father, followed by his mother when he was but a young child. The Ranger had dropped by alone the previous evening, and they had spoken. It was yet another reminder her own family were now safe in the West. One day, she would see them again. Not even the Eldar knew the fates of the souls of man; Aragorn might never see his own blood family again.

The pain would ease. Elladan had gently told her that as she had awoken from haunting dreams in the early hours of the morning. It would become easier, she believed him. She'd known pain before and it had slowly gone away. She could bear it.

Overnight Aerlaer had decided she would take Aerthor's place for certain at the council. Elladan had hinted it was a council to discus the fate of Middle Earth, and a way to defeat the darkness. This news gave Aerlaer hope and maybe even a purpose. Whether it be in Imladris, Lothlórien or with the Dunedin Rangers of the North; with all the strength and skill she possessed, Aerlaer would help keep the darkness of the enemy from consuming all of Middle Earth.

Standing to turn from the large mirror, she moved to the window, gazing towards the trees and large gardens which were bathed in golden light as the morning sun rose higher into the bluing sky. A longing to be out there, with the breeze lifting through her hair, and cool damp earth beneath her feet, swept through her. She was healed, lifeforce restored, and her soul desired to run. Shaking out her mane of hair in anticipation, Aerlaer swept from her chamber, hoping no one would catch her sneaking off.

Barely four steps out of the hall, her gaze found Aragorn’s. Internally she groaned, he worried far too much whenever something happened to her, or anyone he cared about. Considering the majority of those he worried for were healers, it was quite silly in her opinion.

"Aerlaer?" She paused and threw on a bright smile.

"Greetings." She murmured, noticing how he gazed at her with slight worry. "Estel I am fine." She berated him lightly. He nodded, although his brows were still creased.

"You will still attend the council?"

"Yes, I think I will head into the garden woods for a light run first."

"Do not be late." He chuckled, seeming to believe all was well with her, or at least knowing not to dredge up memories she was trying to push away.

"Perhaps save me a seat?" She grinned at him and he nodded, his gaze shifting left to where Aerlaer caught sight of, no? A Dwarf? She hadn’t seen Dwarves in Imladris since Thorin’s company had passed through some decades earlier.

"And no annoying the Dwarves." He added, and her grin only widened.

"I cannot promise anything." She snickered and before he could say another word, she shifted and leapt away.

 

…

 

The gardens of Imladris had always fascinated Legolas. They were such a contrast to those he had grown up around, which were native to the Greenwood and Doriath. No, these stretched across acres in a flatter part of the Hidden Valley, and every plant imaginable had been cultivated and grown under Lord Elrond's watchful eyes and nurturing hands. It was truly awe-inspiring, especially with the early morning dew clinging to the plants and newly spun, small spider webs. Like perfect little crystals.

He wandered aimlessly along the paths, boots brushing through dew-clad grass, every now and then tracing his hands along the trunk of a tree and feeling the tingling sensation on his fingers of its lifeforce. Some he silently greeted, others he left to awaken to the new day. As the sun rose, blossoms unfurled, turning their bright hearts to bask beneath the warm light.

Movement to his right, pulled Legolas’s attention from the refracting droplets upon a weaving spider’s web, and to the densely wooded part of the gardens. A flash of creamy white was moving through the trees. He knew many creatures lived in the garden and in the meadow beyond, horses usually grazed. He could faintly hear hoof beats upon the soft ground and frowned.

The elleth he had found and brought to Imladris two days earlier, where had her horse been? _It was not in sight when I arrived, but I heard it and so did Niphredil._ That afternoon had been quite a blur in hindsight. Upon calling for aid as he'd galloped over the bridge into the valley, he had been intercepted by Elladan. Upon seeing the elleth his friend had cried out in utter anguish and then Glorfindel was there too, his expression holding the same level of pain as Elladan’s had. It had been the Balrog Slayer who had taken the dying elleth from him, as if she were precious to he alone, and raced away towards the Healing Houses.

Later he had learned from Lindir, the elleth was a cousin of the House of Elrond. With her dire condition and the entire realm being host to an assortment of races from across the lands, Legolas had been left to his own devices. Unsure what to do, he had tended his mare, unpacked his belongings, tidied himself up after many long hours journeying and then found himself sitting on a bench near the entrance to the Healing Houses.

To his surprise hours later, Lord Elrond had rushed out acting most unlike himself, and pulled Legolas into a very uncharacteristic embrace, thanking him profusely before hurrying back into the Healing House. With the reassuring knowledge the elleth would live, he had made his way quietly to the Hall of Fire.

Presently he felt he was being watched and turned toward the feeling of eyes on him. In the long meadow of wild flowers ahead, a horse gazed back at him; ears pricked, twitching back and forth curiously. He was stunned; the horse had a creamy white body, but instead of having a lighter mane and tail or a black mane and tail, it was a cascade of colour akin to autumn leaves. The horse suddenly flicked her long tail and lifted her head up to the side as if to say; _Yes I can see you looking at me._

Legolas was sure she was not one of the Meara. _But, what is she?_ He'd always had a good eye for good horses, and he appreciated the build of the one before him. Long, clean limbs and a straight back. Well sloped, strong shoulder, and a strong chest; not too narrow not too wide. This horse was exquisitely put together. Her head started with two dainty, pointed ears which were turned towards him. An expressive, slightly dished face with intelligent, strangely deep blue eyes tapered to a soft muzzle and delicate nostrils he suspected would flair if she were angered or crossed.

She shook her mane and looked at him again. What, have you not seen a horse before? A smile crept up on him at what the she seemed to be conveying by the way she gazed back at him. No, he was quite sure he hadn’t seen a horse like her before.

 

…

 

Aerlaer knew full well no other horse in Middle Earth looked like her. She was likened to the Meara to those who did not know what she was, but even Meara, although her great decedents gained their horse attributes from them, did not have her unique colours of a body paler than mane and tail but, not a true buckskin. Nor did they have the tell-tale colours of her mane and tail, which only a small few recognised for what they signified.

The Elf watching her clearly had no idea and it amused her to no end. She had spied him earlier as she'd revelled in the freedom of running through the garden woods. Deciding she had run enough, she’d wanted to play a game with this Elf, who was clearly watching her through the trees. Swiftly, she'd trotted, hidden by the woods, and entered the meadow from the side. She'd quietly walked through the long wildflowers and grasses; watching amused as the Elf had continued to look intently into the trees she had just been in.

Aerlaer waited and soon enough, he must have realised he was being watched and he'd turned toward her with a look of open surprise. She'd swished her tail in humour and thrown her head up to see if he would come closer, letting him know she was aware he was there, watching her.

To her surprise he did not approach Usually people, Elves, Men or Dwarves couldn't resist approaching a free roaming horse and usually when they unknowingly tried to approach her, she'd have fun with them; leading them on a merry dance of chase as they tried to catch her. All thoughts of playing games through the gardens now left her thoughts and Aerlaer looked properly at the Elf, trying to figure him out.

He was tall, weapon-less but clearly used to fighting from his stance and the way he held his arms. He wore soft looking leather boots, trousers and a long fitting tunic in a light, silvery green. His hair was a pale blonde and pulled back softly off his face with a braid down the middle and the rest flowed freely resting just below where she imagined the bottom of his shoulder blades were. His face was honest and like all Elves, fair. Yet his features were finer than other male Elves she had seen or knew of, with well angled cheek and jaw bones. Curiously, for they were rare among Elves, his eyes were a deep brown Thy were full of life and wisdom, but he looked young like her. She picked him to be maybe close to her own age of Seven-hundred and thirty, giving or taking a few hundred years.

Aerlaer shook her mane out, starting to feel a bit picked apart by the gaze of this Elf, and then she realised he had begun to turn away and walk back the way he'd come. She watched him walk a few meters and then unthinkingly started to follow. It took her six curious steps in his direction before she abruptly stopped, shaking her head in annoyance. Aerlaer had very nearly fallen for the oldest trick in horse lore. Slightly disgusted in herself, she turned and galloped back into the meadow.

 

…

 

Legolas did not want to bother the intriguing horse, knowing she would likely flee if he tried to approach. So, instead he turned back towards the halls of Rivendell. He listened carefully as he walked away and was rewarded with the softly muffled sound of her following him. He kept walking and then quite suddenly the near silent footfalls ceased before he heard the swifter, louder four-beat pattern of the horse galloping away. He'd secretly hoped perhaps she would follow him, but there had been a wildness to her and he expected she belonged to no one.

Chancing such an encounter had been enough, as it always was when any wild creature ventured curiously forth to establish some type of contact with him. With a contented smile playing on his lips, he made his way back to the guest halls for the morning meal, and to attend Lord Elrond's council.

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anyone jumps on their high and mighty horse and points out Legolas doesn't have brown eyes in Tolkien's works, I know that. He has grey eyes, trust me I know! I have three shelves in my bookcase dedicated to Tolkien alone, plus I also have awesome grey eyes! ;) Legolas has brown eyes in this story as it is a very important part of the plot and in no conceivable way related to contact wearing issues in Jackson's trilogy. Anyway, hope anyone reading this is enjoying it. :)
> 
> A xx


	4. The Council of Elrond

**_~The Council of Elrond~_ **

* * *

 

 

Legolas watched as the stone benches around him slowly filled up with the representatives of Middle Earth. It was a fair place to have a council for they all sat equally in a circle, an elegant stone plinth in the center. Not since Erebor had he seen such an assortment of races come together; Elves, Men, Dwarves, Gandalf, and a Hobbit. The small curly haired Hobbit, Aragorn had hinted carried the very thing this council meeting had been called for.

Beside him Glorfindel sat, while an Elf he did not know sat to his right. Aragorn sat with the races of men but it seemed he was reserving the other half of the bench he sat upon.  _Perhaps for another Ranger?_ Soon it appeared everyone had seated themselves and Legolas looked up to Lord Elrond who remained standing. His twin sons, older than Legolas by centuries, seated to his left and Erestor to his right. The Lord of Imladris swept his gaze over them all and then towards the entrance, looking quite relieved over something. As he drew in a breath, about to address them all, there was a distinct sound of light cantering hoofs on the earth. The sound grew slightly louder as they now trotted on stone.

Lord Elrond's face became strangely crestfallen and Elladan shot a quick look to his brother before they and the rest of the council, including himself turned toward the entrance. A horse, curiously riderless, came trotting gracefully up the outer stone steps. It was the very same horse he had seen in the garden. As she reached the topmost step there was a collective gasp from many seated within the circle for in a sudden swirl of pale green and grey dress material, an elleth continued walking in the horse's place.

She walked straight past him, sending a cheery smile to Glorfindel who grinned happily back. She was the very same elleth he had rescued only a couple days earlier from near death! He knew his mouth was half hanging open but he did not care, he wasn't the only one surprised although he knew well enough now just who she was and what she was. He watched her walk with a fluent poise toward Elrond, noting she was utterly transformed from the day he had found her unconscious and frail in the forest. She now glowed with the vigor of youth and life.

"Greetings Lord Elrond, I apologize for my late arrival, I was down in the meadows." Her voice was almost like a song yet there was strength behind it, purpose. Elrond smiled down at her from where he stood on his slightly raised platform. Legolas wondered at the Lord's earlier look of disappointment just before the elleth arrived. I _s she still healing? She looks well enough?_

"No need to apologise Aerlaer, if you would take a seat." Elrond replied softly and she bowed her head. Legolas felt like such a fool. How had he not recognized her the moment he had found her? Aerlaer, daughter of Falas of the Edhelroch. He had not even realized it was her in the gardens earlier in her horse form. He now felt embarrassed he had studied her so obviously, quite like he was doing now.  _What in all Arda am I doing!_  Quickly he dropped his eyes to look at the stone at his booted feet, but as she practically floated past he could not help but look up and watch her.  _How did I not recognize her by her hair?_  Beside him, Glorfindel chuckled.

"You act as if you have never laid eyes upon her, yet did you not rescue her?" He said so quietly that only Legolas could hear. It was as if the golden-haired Elf could read his thoughts.

"She is now far from the edge of death, to me she is transformed. My knowledge had fled me on that day, I did not recognize her for who she truly is." He admitted sheepishly. Glorfindel chuckled again before facing towards Lord Elrond, and Legolas too turned to face the Lord of Rivendell.

 

…

 

Aerlaer caught sight of Aragorn and greeting him, sat herself gracefully beside him, trying to ignore all the eyes which had followed her since she had entered the council. She was fully aware she was the only female attending the meeting. Elrond finally began by welcoming everyone and Aerlaer took a moment to survey the others seated in the circle while all eyes were turned toward his wise voice. She noted the Elf from the garden was sitting with the other elves, slightly taller than the other elves next to him, save for Glorfindel.

Aerthor usually dealt with such situations, he was the diplomatic one. She was well spoken enough and knew well enough of the affairs concerning Middle Earth, but females didn't exactly find themselves in politics. Female Elves being allowed the right to fight was still only a relatively new lore of the third age and only embraced by Mirkwood and her own kin and she had heard, Harlindon. Lórien and Imladris were slowly changing too, but change was slow. Just sitting at this council had her trying not to pick at the fabric of her dress.

She felt a gaze upon her and looked across to the Elves to meet Glorfindel's familiar azure gaze.  _He would be thinking the same as I am._  As if to prove so, he sent her an encouraging smile before turning and saying something to the blonde Elf beside him.  _Elrond said the Elf who saved me would be attending the council, I wonder which one he is?_ She did not have time to ponder as her uncle's tone became grave and she turned to listen intently.

"-Middle Earth stands on the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite or you will fall." Elrond turned to the Hobbit sitting by a stooped and tired looking Gandalf. "Bring forth the ring, Frodo."

Aerlaer watched as the curious little Hobbit walked purposely forward. Reaching up, he placed the one ring on the plinth in the center of the circle of silently watching people. Everyone present seemed to be holding a collective breath including herself she realized and realised it, letting her shoulders relax. As Frodo stepped away from the ring, she could detect the pure evil simmering quietly in the golden band, as it tried to call to all who surrounded it.

She pushed its whispers from her mind, uninterested in its attempt of persuasion of her will _. I am light and sea, your darkness has no place in my mind._  The whispers subsided in her mind to her relief. Aragorn, she noted seemed well enough given his ancestor had succumbed to the power of the very ring before them. On his other side however, a strong looking man rose from the circle breaking the heavy silence.

"In a dream I saw the eastern sky grow dark, but in the west, a pale light lingered. A voice was crying 'your doom is near at hand'." Aerlaer watched cautiously as the man approached the ring. "Isildur's bane is found." As he reached for the ring, the sky darkened over Rivendell and thunder rumbled with menace outside the valley. Surprised, she looked to her uncle, finding his usually composed features filled with horror. Gandalf leapt up in a sweep of grey material and slammed down his staff, causing the Gondor man to jump back in fright. The Wizard then proceeded to utter words which caused a dark dread to seep seemingly into her very soul.

Aerlaer closed her eyes feeling immensely sick, wishing for the dreadful cursed words to go away. The ring's power within the council enclosure seemed to intensify for but a moment and she fought not to cry out as images unbidden, flooded her mind. Images of her herd falling, of fire and shadow and a silver tree falling into darkness beside her. She snapped her eyes open, trying to get away from what the ring made her see. The fell voice faded away and light returned, the morning sun warming her face once more as if nothing had happened.

"Never before has any voice uttered the words of that tongue here in Imladris! Elrond stated in clear disapproval and shock.

"I do not ask your pardon Master Elrond, for the black speech of Mordor may yet be heard in every corner of the west," Gandalf replied. "The ring is altogether evil." He sent a scathing glare in the direction of the blonde man who had sensibly sat back down. However, it seemed he still believed the ring could be of use.

"It is a gift. A gift to the foes of Mordor." He stated slowly, and Aerlaer held back rolling her eyes. He just wouldn't let it go and she wondered fleetingly what the ring had tried to promise him with its mephitic whispers. Again he rose from his seat and started to pace, Elrond and Gandalf eyeing him with suspicion. "Why not use this ring? Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe! Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy; let us use it against him!" He held his arms out as if to encourage the others to agree with him.  _Clearly someone has not seen the evil which resides on the fringes and far ends of Mirkwood._ She felt the slight ripple of air as Aragorn stood up from his seat beside her.

"You cannot wield it. None of us can," He stated this fact to the entire council. "The one ring answers to Sauron alone, it has no other master."

"And what would a mere Ranger know of this matter?" The blonde man retorted with a look of pre-eminence upon his regal face. Aerlaer, disgusted by the foolish man's naive attitude, made to educate him on the mere Ranger, but another Elf bet her to it. The silvery-blonde Elf from the gardens stood up, clearly seething with anger towards the Gondor man.

"This is no mere Ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance." The Elf narrowed his dark eyes at the man, challenging him to deny it.

"Aragorn? This is Isildur's heir?" Spluttered the Gondor man.

"And heir to the throne of Gondor." The Elf added smugly.  _Exactly, you best be on your best behaviour human, or you'll be losing your throne._ Aerlaer thought, enjoying seeing this man receive a lesson in the history and politics of men in too fewer words by the smart tongued Elf. She was disappointed when Aragorn beckoned the blonde Elf to stop.

"Havo dad Legolas"

Aerlaer's eyes snapped to the Elf's in surprise as he resumed his seat, having eloquently made his point. She found she was looking into his brown ones and gave him the tiniest smile in recognition to his name. He returned the gesture before they each directed their attention back to Elrond who was again speaking. "You have only one choice. The ring must be destroyed."

"Then what are we waiting for." Growled a chestnut bearded Dwarf as he rose from his seat, wielding his axe. Swiftly he brought it down upon the golden ring. There was a great noise of metal ringing on metal and the Dwarf was deflected, stumbling away. She gazed back to the ring but there was not a mark on it. It had not even moved. The Dwarf grumbled angrily as he returned to his seat.

"The ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli son of Glóin, by any craft we here possess. The ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade." Elrond's voice was both weary and grave. "It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came." He paused, surveying them all and she felt his wise eyes move over her face to pause a moment on Aragorn before looking at them all again as a whole. "One of you must do this."

Aerlaer kept her thoughts to herself as her eyes flickered to the others, listening to them begin to bicker as they tried to decide who it should be. She sighed as the air grew tense. The blonde Gondor man barely containing his laughter at Elrond's decision. She listened as he explained the dangers of trying to get the ring into Mordor under the ever-watchful eye of Sauron, stating the whole idea was folly. Once again the blonde Elf she now knew to be Legolas, jumped up correcting the Gondor man telling him the ring had to be destroyed. Gimli the Dwarf who had tried to break the ring, rounded on the Woodland Elf, accusing him of wanting to take the ring to Mordor himself. Glorfindel leapt up then, looking angry yet trying to mediate. Soon most of the council were bickering.

Aerlaer looked at Aragorn who was sitting quietly next to her and shook her head as if to say;  _they've all lost their minds._  He smiled ruefully at her, rolling his eyes and shrugged his shoulders.  _It is expected, ah well, what can you do?_ She could feel the ring getting stronger from the dark thoughts it was eliciting from the council members.  _This must stop._

"I will take it!" Aerlaer turned to the small voice trying to shout through the arguing. It was the little Hobbit, Frodo. Her heart broke for him, what he was committing to surely more perilous than Bilbo's journey to Erebor all those years ago. "I will take it!" he repeated a little louder. The commotion died down enough for everyone to hear the Hobbit the second time.

"I will take the ring to Mordor... although, I do not know the way." He mumbled out the rest, now unsure under the full attention of the stunned silent council. Her gaze moved to Gandalf, the Wizard the first to move. He walked towards the Hobbit and gazed down fondly at him.

"I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, as long as it is yours to bear." The Wizard said simply, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder before standing by his side.

Aragorn stood up from beside her and walked forward and she felt her heart skip, knowing full well what he was intending to do. "If by my life or death I can protect you, I will." Aragorn knelt before the Hobbit who looked simply stunned. "You have my sword." He pledged.

"And you have my bow." Legolas spoke up as he made his way to the group which was forming around the wide eyed Hobbit.

Gimli, the Dwarf, followed after him. "And my Axe." He said, catching Legolas's eye as he stood stiffly beside the blonde Elf.

Aerlaer stood. She had decided during the long hours of the night she would remain and do what she could to fight back at the evils swiftly consuming the land and the desolation they caused. This would be how. Slowly she placed one foot before the other until she stood before the Hobbit and gazed down into his sky-blue eyes. "I too will take this journey and protect you Frodo." She declared quietly before moving to take her place in the group, sealing her future.

 

…

 

"Aerlaer, I cannot approve of this." Elrond gazed towards the young elleth, hoping she would change her mind. He had feared this very outcome. Aerlaer had a habit of finding danger easier than a moth found a flame. She turned to gaze back at him, her fair face set in determination and he already knew he had lost her.

"I was raised as my brother was, Lord Elrond, as a warrior. I am the only one left. I need to go." She held his eyes with hers, a trait she'd annoyingly picked up from her Grandmother meaning she usually always got her way. How could he deny her the right to fight and avenge her kin, her family? His own sons still took the life of each Orc they slayed in vengeance to their own mother. "This is the only way to stop this terrible evil from destroying any more of the races of Middle Earth. Mine is not the only one which has diminished." She finished pointedly. He knew she spoke of Beorn the skinchanger whose people had dwelt near hers. His life had been claimed not long ago by the Orc forces of Dol Guldur, bringing his race to an end. Elrond sighed in resignation. He knew in no way could he stop her unless he chained her to a pillar and he simply could not fathom doing such a thing.

"Very well, you may go." They were not easy words to speak. She nodded gratefully to him before movement caught his eye and the Gondor man, Boromir, stepped forward.

"You carry the face of us all little one. "He murmured, making his way toward the group and stood on Aerlaer's left. "If this is indeed the rule of the council, then Gondor will see it done."

"Ha! Mister Frodo ain't goin' anywhere without me!" Cried a slightly uncultured voice and Elrond inwardly groaned as the tubby Hobbit with a flopping mop of blonde hair scampered out from behind a garden wall to join Frodo.

"No indeed. It is hardly possible to separate the two of you, even when he is summoned to a secret meeting and, you are not." Elrond frowned at the intruder, but it lightened his heart to see Frodo gladdened by his friend's sudden appearance.

"Wait! We're coming too!" He could only shake his head as the two other Hobbits who had arrived with Aragorn, leapt out of a border hedge and dashed across the stone to join the group of eight. They chattered away to themselves as Gandalf caught his eye and gave him an encouraging nod.  _They are not warriors, but the journey will not be such a burden on any one of them, for the Hobbits do possess the ability to lighten even the darkest of spirits._

"Ten companions." He finally mused. "So be it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring." He looked at the newly formed Fellowship. "We will meet this eve for dinner in the eastern hall where we will discuss and plan your journey.

With that the council dispersed and he found it was his niece lingering, standing silently before him. "Aerlaer, I am not enthusiastic by your decision but I do understand it, and I will support it."

She looked up, caught of guard by his statement, eyes widening. She embraced him before standing back. "Thank you." She whispered before turning to walk down the steps.

"Aerlaer?" He called down to her, remembering one more piece of information he had to relay to her. She stopped at the bottom of the stair to look back up at him, puzzled. "I trust you now know which Elf you need thank?"

"I do." She smiled brightly before continuing on her way. He watched her, a smile pulling at his mouth.  _Would she remember?_

* * *

 


	5. An Act of Trust

_**~An Act of Trust~** _

* * *

 

Aerlaer sat waiting on the steps leading into the eastern hall, hoping to catch Legolas. She pulled her knees up to her chest; the green layered skirts of her dress falling over them and around her to create a silken floor. Gazing up at the stars which were just beginning to come out, counting them as they twinkled above her. She’d almost forgotten why she was there until a soft voice pulled her back from her star gazing.

“Lady Aerlaer, will you not join the feast this eve?” Startled, she turned her attention away from the early night sky, meeting the quizzical gaze of the very Elf she was awaiting.

“Yes, but I wished to catch you before you went in.” Smiling tentatively, Aerlaer stood, realising he was quite tall, for even standing two steps above his, the top of her head still only reached his nose. “I have not had a chance to thank you for saving me.” She explained, and his confusion turned to surprise.

"Oh, think nothing of it. I am just glad I brought you to Rivendell before it was too late." He lifted a shoulder, as if to shrug the whole thing away. Aerlaer held back a frown.

“Well still, thank you. I will have to return the favour one day.” She meant it. She owed him her life. This at least drew a small smile to the corner of his mouth.

“That I will not decline, I've no doubt you are lethal. I saw what you did to that Orc, and you were exhausted.” His smile grew into a grin which she found herself mirroring. _I think we will get along well on this journey. He does not seem at all overly royal._ Aerlaer recalled seeing him in the gardens and dropped her gaze, a rush of foolishness coursing through her.

“Also, I wish to apologise for this morning in the garden. Had I known who you were, I would have made myself known.” She spoke quietly, daring a chaste look at his eyes to gauge his reaction. He looked as guilty as she felt.

“I too must apologise. I did not know it was you, nor that you were an Edhelroch. If I had known, I would not have scrutinized you so in trying to discover what you were. I knew you were not one of the Meara. Forgive me my naivetés.” He looked so utterly embarrassed she began to laugh, and he looked at her, alarmed.

“Truly, you were not to be any the wiser. Our kin rarely crossed paths. I will accept your apology, but you must accept mine. Then we shall be even, lest where I Aerlaer, owe one Legolas a return lifesaving gesture.” She gave him a bright smile he instantly returned with obvious relief.

“I accept. Should we head in before those hobbits eat all the food?” Aerlaer nodded with a laugh and turned to proceed up the steps and into the eastern hall, her new friend following a few paces behind.

 

…

 

Upon entering the hall, Legolas found himself sitting between Aragorn and Aerlaer as they helped themselves to the feast of food before them.

“Ah Legolas, I trust you and Aerlaer have met one another now?” Aragorn asked, looking between them both for confirmation.

“Indeed, we have, Aerlaer owes me one life saved.” Legolas smirked. He was immensely glad she would be accompanying them on this journey. For years he’d heard various tales from the Elrondion, or Aragorn himself about the elleth seated beside him, and of her twin brother. Now after all those years, he finally had a face, an actual elleth to put to the name of all those tales. After the council, Legolas had found Aragorn and pulled him aside, asking just what Aerlaer had meant when she had spoken of her kin. The Ranger's explanation had been horrific, and he was silently in awe of just how well she was handling herself and how vibrant she seemed to be in nature. He would never have guessed at just how much she had lost by gazing at her.

“I have no doubt Aerlaer will hold to her promise if it ever be called for.” The Ranger said, bringing Legolas from his thoughts. The entire table had quietened, and it seemed the others had stopped to listen to what Aragorn had to say of the enigma of an elleth, who had pledged herself to be a part of the company alongside them. “I have fought Wargs alongside Aerlaer before, and the skill of the Edhelroch in a fight is nothing trivial.” He said clearly for the others to hear. “Legolas is also just as lethal and quick in a battle. We are lucky to have you both.” Legolas flashed Aragorn a smile, warmed by his honest words.

“Forgive my asking, but how does a lady Elf know such skills? Is it not a lady’s place to stay safely in her home while the male Elves defend their lands? A lady does not hold the same strength a male does in a fight.” The dining hall fell quiet, all eyes flitting between Boromir and Aerlaer. Legolas gazed in disdain at the man, noting the fool now realised he’d overstepped. _It is too late to take your spoken words back now._ Legolas gazed sidelong at Aerlaer, who regarded the man quietly for a few moments.

“Fight me.” Legolas heard the quiet challenge in her tone and glanced at Aragorn, who glanced back at him worriedly. Legolas was delighted, wanting nothing more than this uncouth man, who had annoyed him during the council, to be put in his place by the mere slip of an elleth.

Boromir started, looking to be well and truly caught off guard. “I cannot fight you; it would be disrespectful, my Lady.” He all but spluttered, adding to Legolas’s amusement.

“If we should be attacked during our journey to Mordor, you need to know you can trust me in any fighting situation." Legolas followed Aerlaer’s gaze to the man, noting he was growing quite uncomfortable where he sat. “To not accept my generous request of a friendly duel would earn you more disrespect.” Boromir flinched at her last word and Legolas held in a grin. He liked this! Slowly the eldest son of Gondor stood up, unbuttoned his jerkin and removed it so he only wore his tunic, trousers and boots. He withdrew his sword from its sheath.

“As you wish.” The man sighed.

Beside him, Aragorn unsheathed his own sword and handed it to Aerlaer. Standing, the elleth took a moment to familiarise herself with the weight of the blade, executing simple swings and cuts. “You have one over me Boromir, for my sword is safely put away in my rooms and I will use Aragorn's. It is foreign to me, and a little heavier than my own. Whereas, the in your hand you know well.” She stated, nonchalantly twirling Aragorn’s sword in her right hand.

“This will make for interesting entertainment.” The Dwarf, Gimli chuckled heartily to the four Hobbits who were sitting together looking nervous. Legolas supposed they were not used to fighting or the ways of Elves, Men and Dwarves. Although his only dealings with Hobbits up until now had been Bilbo, and he’d turned out to be both a sneak, and a thief!

Lord Elrond, who up until now  sat quietly at the top of the table, stood and beckoned Aerlaer and Boromir to the spacious area beyond the end of the table. By the Lord’s creased brow, Legolas suspected he was not impressed by the Gondor man's lack of respect under his roof and toward his niece.

"You should both know the rules to a practice duel like this, however I will go over them clearly so everyone in this hall understands. You are to engage in a fair fight using swords as your only weapon. There will be no body combat and no blood shall be drawn. Try not to slash off one another’s garments.” He added, and a ripple of laughter came from the table of eight who waited attentively.

Legolas thought the comment was rather below but, decided it would be amusing if Aerlaer managed to de-shirt the man or even loosen his trousers. _No, if that man so much as removes a layer of silk from her dress, I will run him through with my own blade!_ He shook his head, dispelling the sudden burst of protectiveness towards the elleth he saved and returned his gaze to the pair. Both opponents took their stance a few meters from each other and awaited Elrond's signal.

 

…

 

"You may begin." Elrond’s voice resonated through the silent hall, and Aerlaer eyed the man before her. Neither of them had moved yet, and she contemplated whether she should exhaust his efforts or go in for the kill. She decided to wait for his attack and stood ready to move when needed. Boromir, seeming to relent under her continuous gaze, stepped toward her, lifting his blade. Deftly, Aerlaer shifted to the side, sweeping her borrowed blade up to meet his.

A flicker of surprise passed across his face, realising she was stronger than he first expected. A new look settled upon his face, and there was a glint in his eyes. Determination. Aerlaer could not help but let a smile of triumph escape onto her lips. Pushing his weapon back towards him, she deflected it, dodging back to stalk around the man. Boromir eyed her warily, turning as she turned.

Aerlaer darted towards him on her third circle; attacking with a series of fast, consecutive parries. He blocked and deflected all of them well, but her savage onslaught had sparked the fight in him. He retaliated with swipes and parries of his own, driving her into the corner of the hall, where a stone bench stood. Gauging the location of the table, Aerlaer allowed her opponent to push her towards it with each parry she deflected, letting him think his brute strength was besting her with each step back.

Boromir’s eyes gleamed in victory, which was short lived. With a light leap backward, Aerlaer landed upon the bench, springing upward again to flip mid-air over the man’s head. Landing, she brought her borrowed blade around to rest against his sweaty neck, before he had a chance to swing around and face her.

Stunned silence fell upon the hall, save for the shallow breathing of Boromir before her. The Gondor man let go of his sword and it clattered, echoing off the marble floor. Aerlaer felt a moment of guilt for besting him like this, for surely she had wounded his pride. _No, he needed to know this, he needed to know I could be trusted if we meet the enemy._

 

…

 

The she-Elf had beaten him. Boromir could not deny her skill or her tenacity. He had not stood a chance. “Forgive me, for I did not know. You truly are an adept fighter. I shouldn't like to cross you in a real battle.” The blade remained against his neck, the pressure of it was feather light, but he now knew if the Lady Aerlaer deemed, she could leave him a bloodied mess upon the white marble. It was a sobering thought.

"Would you trust me now to have your back in a fight?" She lowered the sword and allowed him to turn around and face her. He briefly met her inquisitive, sparkling blue eyes before bowing his head in respect.

“I would trust you my Lady Aerlaer in the very depths of Mordor itself.” He vowed. She smiled then, and like all her Elven kin he had so far had dealings with in this valley, the simple expression was so pure and fair, she was almost painful to gaze upon. Boromir hoped dearly he would grow accustomed to the fairness of these creatures, even the male Elf when he smiled had nearly the same effect upon him.

“Call me only Aerlaer.” She requested, her words nearly a whisper. He nodded, and she continued for the others to hear. "You handle a blade exceptionally well, Boromir. I would be honoured to fight beside you if the need arises, my friend." _She called me a friend_! He felt almost bashful at her offer of friendship and beamed back at her.

"Thank you, Aerlaer, I am glad we fought now." She grinned at him, nodded her head and then turned to walk back to her seat at the table, returning Aragorn his sword. More at ease now around the she-Elf, Boromir made his way back to his seat, earning a pleased nod from the Lord of Imladris on his way.

 

…

 

"Well done, I believe you have just made a friend for life." Aragorn murmured once Aerlaer retook her seat.

"I believe you are right." She replied just as quietly, watching Boromir sit down and attempt to answer the hundred questions thrown his way by Merry and Pippin next to him on how to fight with a sword. She turned to Legolas who was grinning at her, his dark eyes dancing.

"I, for one, cannot wait to fight by your side." He declared, and she instantly grinned back at him, only looking away when her uncle tapped at his chalice to gather their attention.

"Well fought Aerlaer and Boromir. As you have now seen for yourselves and you all will know of your own abilities, the Fellowship is made up of some of the best fighters in all Middle Earth. Now we must move on to more pressing matters; preparation for your journey and the safest way to get to Mordor and to Mount Doom."

"It is going to be a long night." Aragorn muttered under his breath and Aerlaer turned and smirked at him.

"We will not starve at least." She whispered back, and the Ranger laughed quietly as they realised the Hobbits across from them were taking this next discussion of preparation as another reason to fill their plates.

"They certainly have the right idea." Legolas chuckled, selecting himself a large green apple and then took another apple, placing it before her.

"How did you know?" She asked dryly but could not help the pleased smile forming.

"A chance guess." He smirked back before taking a bite from his own piece of fruit. Amused, Aerlaer shook her head, facing towards the head of the long table where Gandalf and her uncle had begun a discussion for all to hear, and one she had been wondering about; how the Fellowship would get to Mordor.

 

* * *

 

Reviews welcome. 


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